


Bound to Be Crossed

by OrpheusLives



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24468631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrpheusLives/pseuds/OrpheusLives
Summary: Things never go to plan for Hercule, but he's learned to work with that. This time was no different.
Relationships: Father Brown/M. Hercule Flambeau
Kudos: 27





	Bound to Be Crossed

_It was snowing outside. Pure white blanketed the countryside as far as he could see. Usually it would have bothered him, but tonight, the feeling of solitude it provided was a comfort. The altar was dark before him, just a dim reflection of moonlight shone through the stained glass of St. Mary’s.  
He felt, more than heard the door open behind him, and turned to the striking figure framed in the doorway. He knew it was Hercule, even without being able to see the other man’s face. He stood slowly as Hercule made his way down the aisle, none of his usual swagger present in an otherwise steady gait. His clothes were plain, just shirtsleeves and trousers, which seemed odd, seeing as he’d just come in from the snow. Hercule met his gaze as soon as he was close enough.  
There was a knowledge and familiarity in the gaze. No self-consciousness or need to look away, just a soul seeing into another soul. Without a word, Hercule sunk to his knees with a decided ‘thud’ on the stone floor. His hands clasped together in front of him, in an honest emulation of prayer.  
He reached for his stole, which he’d forgotten he was wearing, wrapping it around Hercule’s wrists, binding them together. His breath caught in his throat at the beauty before him. The beauty of prayer. The beauty of god. And the beauty of Hercule Flambeau. _  
Father Brown Woke up in a cold sweat.

There were a great many things that could still surprise Father Brown. Most of them were about his own folly. He was a man of god, but also human, and often fell prey to his own human foibles. Pride, being the main battle he’d been fighting. He’d even, God help him, nearly fallen victim to lust a few times. But with all of his introspection, nothing could have steeled him for the events that were about to follow.  
It was bitter cold, near midwinter, and Brown had been called away from Kembleford by the annual meeting of the diocese. So he was staying in Coventry at an inn near the cathedral there. He’d finished dressing for the day and was about to head down to breakfast when he heard one of the maids pounding at a door down the hall.  
“Please sir, you have to open up. The manager needs you.” There was no verbal response. The maid looked up as Father brown approached.  
“Can I help?”  
“Maybe. I think he’s one of your lot. There’s a phone call for him downstairs. They said it’s urgent.” She pounded on the door again. There was a muffled voice and what sounded like struggling to Brown’s ears.  
“I’ll go in, if you don’t mind. If it’s one of us all will be forgiven.”  
“Alright. I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.” She dropped the key in his hands and turned to walk away. Brown knocked one more time before turning the key in the lock.  
The room was a mess. Not in a ‘couple had a great weekend’ way, but more in a ‘we should probably look for a body’ way. Clothes and papers were strewn everywhere, cabinets pushed over and the vanity had been tipped to the floor. Someone had wanted something. Badly.  
None of this fazed Father Brown. He’d seen much worse, even in the last week. It was the bed, however, that made him stop cold in the center of the room.  
Strong arms were handcuffed to either corner of the headboard, leading to an equally well muscled torso, and all of it belonged to a very naked Hercule Flambeau.  
Father Brown stared for an almost indecent amount of time, from the shock, he told himself, until he made eye contact and realized Hercule was staring back. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He moved quickly to remove the cloth gag that whoever had ransacked the room, he presumed, had left.  
Who had gotten the better of Hercule, to leave him in such a state? There was no obvious headwound, or defensive wounds of any kind, just some odd bruising at the base of his neck that made him bristle with an unfamiliar possessiveness.  
“I was drugged.” Hercule said, bypassing a greeting.  
“What did they want?”  
“Princess Anastasia’s crown.” Hercule was far too relaxed for a man in his position. Brown started looking around for the keys.  
“I see. And did you have it?” He was looking everywhere but at Hercule, who was watching him with a strange look in his eye.  
“Yes. I always keep all my valuables on me wherever I go.” He shifted so his back was fully resting on the headboard, taking the stress off his shoulders, from when he had been struggling to get loose. “He probably took the keys. Bastard” Hercule turned to stare out the window, revealing what was unmistakably a bite mark near his shoulder.  
“He?” Brown tried to downplay the note of incredulity that squeaked out. Hercule gave him a smile.  
“You’re surprised? After all we’ve been through together, you never thought?”  
“I’d never hoped” came unbidden to his mind. “Not something I really think about.” He finished picking through the contents of the nightstand. “Should I ask for a locksmith?” He kept his eyes trained on the floor.  
Hercule sighed. “Yes, I suppose. Police wouldn’t be a good idea. Even though I’m supposed to be dead, you can never be too careful.”  
There was a knock at the door. It was the maid who’d given him the key. Brown was thankful his body was obscuring most of Hercule from the door. “Can I get my key back?” She seemed relatively unfazed. “I’ve told the man on the phone to call back later. He said you’d know who to call when you were ready.” Hercule huffed, almost laughing.  
“Certainly!” Brown crossed to her. “Also, if you could call a locksmith, we’d be much obliged.”  
“Sure.” She looked like she might ask a question, but instead just turned on her heel and left the room. Brown let out a nervous laugh and turned back to Hercule. He made the mistake of looking again. He quickly looked back to the floor.  
Hercule let his head rest against the headboard behind him, fixing Brown with a heated look. “You can look at me.”  
“You’re indecent.” Brown busied himself with righting the vanity.  
“Nudity is only indecent if both parties are aroused by it.” He looked to the ceiling. “Are you aroused by me, father?”  
Brown turned away, flustered. This was not a conversation he ever wanted to have. Having lustful thoughts was bad enough. He was only human. But to have this sin incarnate shackled to a bed in front of him was almost too much to bear. He picked up some papers.  
“Father.” There was no ignoring the command in Hercule’s tone. He straightened and turned, staring past him to the wall. “Look at me”  
He did. It was like something he’d dreamed on his loneliest nights. Usually, in those dreams, he was the one commanding, but life didn’t seem to happen that way. Hercule was beautiful and unabashed about his nakedness.  
‘you could make him do anything right now’ another thought popped into his head without warning. ‘he would probably let you’ Hercule looked at him again. ‘you could fuck him into salvation’  
Brown jumped off that train of thought like a gunshot and recalled the words of Matthew ‘But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.’  
“You’ve got me where you’ve always wanted me. Aren’t you going to try to save my soul?”  
“Haven’t you said yourself, that you’re beyond salvation?”  
“I’d still like to see you try, and I reckon we’ve got a bit of time until the locksmith gets here.”  
This Brown could do. They’d had this verbal dance many times before, but not with one of them being a captive audience, in the literal sense.

Hercule was panicking. Of all the people that could have possibly found him, it was Father Brown. Not some maid, or the hotel manager, which both would’ve been awkward, but one little lie about being done dirty by a woman and he would’ve been home free.  
Instead the one man whose opinion he actually cared about had to find him, completely naked, handcuffed to bed. Not that he hadn’t had this exact fantasy, but it was usually nighttime, took place in St. Mary’s presbytery, and he’d put himself there. But finding out that Brown also like men? He could do so much with that, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.  
“Are you a virgin, Father?” He asked casually, using his unrestrained feet to kick the sheet up, halfheartedly covering himself. Browns expression was a mixture of indignation and relief.  
“No. I’m not.” He perched on the end corner of the bed.  
“You can’t just say that, and not elaborate.” Hercule was doing his best to make his body language open and submissive.  
“I think you’ll find I can” Brown laughed.  
“Let me guess. Girlfriend at home before you left for the war. After 2 years you got a “Dear John” letter. Never had another relationship.”  
“I’ll let you think that.” Brown glanced at the clock.  
“Are you late for something?”  
“Just the conference. They can do without me. Frankly, it’s all a bit dull.”  
“So I’m more important that your God today? I’m flattered.” Hercule rattled his bonds idly, making Brown give him a pensive look.  
What Brown would never articulate was how much Hercule reminded him of Jesus at the crucifixion. Arms wide, toned torso, a loose cloth protecting his modesty. Though he had to admit, he’d never had lustful thoughts about Jesus. All that was missing was the crown of thorns.  
“Why are you here, father? I don’t mean in this room.”  
“Because of the diocese meeting. It’s an annual thing.”  
There was another knock at the door. “Pardon me, father, the locksmith will come, but he might an hour or two on account of the snow and having to go somewhere else first.” She didn’t open the door this time. They probably didn’t pay her enough.  
“Thank you very much my dear.” Brown called back. “Just send him up when he gets here.”  
“Will do, father.” Her footsteps retreated down the hall.

“Now, however shall we pass 2 hours?” Hercule’s tone was light, almost teasing. “Why don’t we play a game?”  
“What kind of game?” Brown was rightfully wary.  
“How about ‘How many hail mary’s will it take for the father to stop thinking about taking advantage of me?’” He watched Browns expression as he processed what had been said.  
“I am not! I would not!” His expression was full of righteous indignation. Hercule laughed.  
“Of course you wouldn’t. It’s not taking advantage if I ask you to.” As he suspected, Brown had no retort that one. Only opening and closing his mouth several times.  
“You’re not serious” was all he could say.  
“If you kiss me, you’ll feel just how serious I am.”  
“I am a man of god!” For all of his protesting, Father Brown was still sitting on the end of the bed. A hopeful sign, to Hercule.  
“Exactly. You’re a man.” Hercule was staring directly at him. “If you can look me in the eyes and tell me, truthfully, that you’ve never once thought about this, I will stop.”  
Browns head turned slowly. “I have nev…. I have n.” The words were dying in his mouth.  
“Let me see if I can guess.” Hercule had him. Now he just had to reel him in. “You’ve caught me. I’m on my knees, handcuffed, begging for salvation. Ready to leave my life behind. You want to grant salvation, but I’ve been so sinful that I need to pay penitence. You’re sure a lashing won’t do, because that probably happened already, but the one thing you can think of is bodily submission to God, with you as an extension of his almighty power to cleanse. And so you take me, draped over the altar, like an offering.”  
There was a heavy pause. It was Brown’s turn to say something, and Hercule was going to wait.

“Is that what you want, Hercule?” He wasn’t bashful or flustered. “Do you want me to go against everything I’ve built my life around for one carnal encounter?”  
“No. I want you to save me.” He let his head fall forward. “You’re the only one who can.” The worst part about this lie, was that it wasn’t a lie. If Brown gave in a kissed him right now, he would give up his life and probably move to Kembleford. Brown was still staring at him when he chanced to look up.  
He barely dared to hope.  
“You truly want salvation?”  
“Yes”  
“Then why haven’t you asked before?”  
“I have. Every time we’ve met. You just always gave me my liberty instead of saving my soul. Which I thank you for.” He let his head fall back against the headboard. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about just showing up at your presbytery and falling on my knees. How would you have reacted to that?”  
“About the way you described, probably. Though I usually imagine using my stole. Hands bound in front. In prayer.”  
The thought of that shouldn’t have made him hard, but here he was, and there was no hiding it. Not that he didn’t try. Brown gave him a thoughtful look.  
“Give me this one honest answer, and I’ll do it.”  
“Anything.”  
“Did you plan this?”  
“Plan what?”  
“Being here, me being the one to find you.”  
“I can swear on whatever you like that I did not plan this.” He sighed. “I can give you his name, if you’d like to track him down.”  
“That won’t be necessary.” Brown was back on the corner of the bed. “Did he… erm… take liberty of you?”  
Hercule laughed. “No. It’s quite the other way around.”  
Brown found himself suddenly quite taken with the idea of the marks the cuffs were going to leave. Marks of penitence. It occurred to him what the marks on Hercule’s neck were.  
This had nothing to do with lust. Or so he was going to continue telling himself. This was in the name of god and saving a soul. His personal feelings on the matter were irrelevant.  
“Is this actually what you want?”  
“Would I be asking if I didn’t? Seems a funny thing to bring up if I can’t get away.”  
“Would you have brought it up if you could?”  
“Eventually, probably.”  
Hercule was laid out like something from a dream, and Brown was certain he’d wake up at any moment to be grasping at nothing. He rested a tentative hand on Hercule’s knee.  
“And on those parts of the body that we think less honourable we bestow the greater honour, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty” Hercule broke the silence.  
“Corinthians 12:23” Brown supplied, but said nothing else. Hercule shifted uncomfortably.  
“I’m guessing you’re having an internal morality war, which is fine, but would you mind putting a pillow behind me while you do it?”  
“Oh! Goodness. Are you in pain?” Brown leapt off the corner of the bed to come to him.  
“No, just mildly inconvenienced.” Hercule shifted forward as much as he could to Help Father Brown fit the pillow between his back and the headboard, and upon seeing his opportunity, took his chance to kiss the other man.  
Brown didn’t pull away, much to Hercule’s surprise. He stayed frozen for a moment before his hand came to rest on Hercule’s shoulder, gently pushing him back.  
“You have to promise me.”  
“Anything”  
“This isn’t just a game to you.”  
“Does this feel like a game?” He was so close.  
“Hercule.” Brown’s tone was firm. “I know you. And I need to know this means something to you.”  
Hercule tried not to be hurt, because it was true. He had dealt Brown too many lies and half truths for him to take his word point blank.  
“Je jure sur la vie de ma fille, je ne fais pas de conneries avec toi.” He reverted to his native French.  
“Oui, mais jurez-vous devant Dieu?” Brown followed suit. Of course he spoke fluent, if slightly accented French. Flambeau was a little taken aback.  
“C’est ton travail de me faire” Brown’s eyebrows raised. “Vous pouvev aussi en profiter”  
“There is always joy in saving a soul.” Brown went back to English.  
“le mien peut-il être sauvé?”  
“Si vous vous repentez vraiment. Il y a de la place dans l'amour de Dieu pour tout le monde.”  
“You don’t believe that.” Hercule maintained a placid expression.  
“Why would I still be here if I didn’t?” Brown was painfully close, hand still on Hercule’s shoulder. He wasn’t going to leave, not when they were both so close to getting what they wanted.  
Hercule didn’t want to hear an answer, so he took a calculated risk and pushed forward, to kiss Brown again. This time he wasn’t pushed away, but met with a tentative hand on his face. The kiss was slow, but satisfying, and it was obvious that the father was out of practice, but Hercule wasn’t going to say anything, he was finally getting what he wanted, and it was better than redemption. It was salvation.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in a while I've wanted to publish. It's only a one shot for now, but that could change. Thanks for reading!  
> French translations:  
> "Je jure sur la vie de ma fille, je ne fais pas de conneries avec toi.”  
> “I swear on the life of my daughter, I’m not screwing with you.”
> 
> “Oui, mais jurez-vous devant Dieu?”  
> “But will you swear before god?”
> 
> “C’est ton travail de me faire” “Vous pouvev aussi en profiter”  
> “You’re supposed to make me.” “And you’re allowed to enjoy it too”
> 
> “le mien peut-il être sauvé?”  
> can mine be saved?
> 
> “Si vous vous repentez vraiment. Il y a de la place dans l'amour de Dieu pour tout le monde.”  
> If you truly repent. There's room in god's love for everyone.  
> As usual: I own nothing.


End file.
